


Determining Reality

by InfiniteJediLove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Kinda a sickfic, M/M, caretaker obi-wan, fluff and some angst, mental distress, recognizing feels, recovery from mission, reference to hallucinations, references to drugged state, sorta domestic, vulnerable Qui-Gon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteJediLove/pseuds/InfiniteJediLove
Summary: After a distressing mission on Terrsid III, it is impossible for Qui-Gon to meditate or find peace within the Force. His now knighted padawan, Obi-Wan, returns to the Temple to help but his presence makes it harder for Qui-Gon to keep his feelings for Obi-Wan a secret.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was influenced both by a headcanon from tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness on tumblr about a reverse au where Obi-Wan was the master and Qui-Gon the padawan, and a chat with quiobi-lover about the concept of reality. Needless to say, I never write things the way people want and so I ended up with a jinnobi fic that is not really a reverse au, nor is it a reality-paradox au, but something else entirely. Oh well, I had a cold when writing this so you can blame that for me totally running away with a different idea, :) hope everyone enjoys this!

“Again.” a calm voice intoned and Qui-Gon opened his eyes, watching the younger man seated across from him.

“I was able to reach a meditative state,” he pointed out and Obi-Wan arched a brow, regarding him with a stern look tempered slightly by fondness.

“No you weren’t.”

Qui-Gon repressed a sigh, closing his eyes and reaching for peace. It was a very bizarre feeling to be instructed by his former padawan, but after the mission on Terrsid III he had had difficulty meditating. A nervous energy seemed to hum through him, unable to be silenced through work or sparring. The Council suggested a healer but Qui-Gon was reluctant to work with one. He did not need another mind knowing how compromised he was.

 _You fear loss_ , Obi-Wan’s voice echoed in his mind and Qui-Gon tilted his head in a nod.

It was a relief to know that their padawan bond was still intact, neither had mentioned severing it at Obi-Wan’s knighting a year ago. Until a week ago, it had been months since they had used Force-speech, months since he had seen Obi-Wan. But soon after Qui-Gon’s return to the Temple, Obi-Wan had returned as well and had convinced the Council to have him help Qui-Gon, instead of a healer. It had not been easy, the Council were reluctant to allow Obi-Wan to put aside his own mission when they believed a healer more than sufficient for assessing Qui-Gon’s health.

 _I know his mind,_ Qui-Gon had overheard Obi-Wan insisting stubbornly, _he needs me._

Perhaps the Council had agreed because Obi-Wan was right, though it was more likely they gave in because they knew how difficult it was to sway Obi-Wan once the man made a decision. It had taken only a few hours for Obi-Wan to take up residence in Qui-Gon’s quarters and begin instructing him on the same meditation techniques that Qui-Gon had once taught him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to release total control to the Force anymore, or to relax entirely and therefore meditation was becoming impossible. Stray wisps of his own frustration and anxiety tangled through the Force and he felt Obi-Wan nudge his mind back to awareness. Qui-Gon opened his eyes looking at Obi-Wan who regarded him thoughtfully. Obi-Wan did not look much different than he had a year ago, his auburn hair had grown out to almost shoulder-length but he remained clean-shaven, his unusual green-blue eyes large and almost luminescent in the dimly lit room.

“Would it help to speak of it?” Obi-Wan asked and Qui-Gon glanced away.

He had reported to the council what had happened on Terrsid III but it had been the emotionless report of a Jedi mission log. For a long moment he considered not saying anything but this was Obi-Wan. He cared for the man more deeply than any other, more deeply than he could fully say. Who else could he share his soul with?

“The Terrsi were not unkind at first,” he said quietly, watching the lone light in the room hover above their heads as a soft glowing orb, “but the environment…I was not informed that just breathing the air would cause so many complications.”

Qui-Gon pushed long graying hair back turning to look at Obi-Wan who watched him calmly, his handsome face displaying only compassion and the willingness to listen.

“The chemicals in their air are breathable but mildly hallucinogenic for many humans. I seem to be particularly sensitive to them. Overtime, it became worse, I found it difficult to distinguish reality from thought, I could not control the Force…” Qui-Gon swallowed, turning his gaze to the soft carpeted floor he sat on. “The Terrsi were waiting until I was too confused to be a threat. Their imprisonment of me was not a physical hardship, they did not torture me but they exposed me to more toxins, hoping to keep me weak. I believe they were trying to study me.”

A small bitter smile came as Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan,

“For quite sometime I was convinced that you were there with me. I begged the Terrsi to let you go and hated myself for wanting you to stay. You were the only thing that kept me sane but you weren’t real.”

“I am real.” Obi-Wan answered quietly, reaching out and laying a hand on Qui-Gon’s knee.

Emotions warred in Qui-Gon at the comforting touch, he longed to have peace, to relax and allow Obi-Wan to guide him back to the calm cadence of mediation. But he also longed to return Obi-Wan’s touch, not just as a gesture within the platonic boundaries of friendship but as something more...

He had never considered the man that way until Terrsid III. He remembered his hallucinations of Obi-Wan on that planet with a strange ache inside his heart. At first Obi-Wan had appeared in Qui-Gon’s cell only to talk of inconsequential matters, appearing often as Qui-Gon had seen him last with short hair and his padawan braid newly cut. But sometimes he had appeared older, changed, and still Qui-Gon’s mind tricked him into believing Obi-Wan was truly there. He remembered the first hallucination where their hands touched, Obi-Wan looking as he did at his knighting ceremony.

When they had kissed, Obi-Wan was an older man, older than Qui-Gon, his beard and short hair white, his eyes tired with a sorrow too overwhelming to understand. Despite the strangeness of everything, the impossibility of an older Obi-Wan being there, the kiss had shocked him with its realness. The memory of the man’s mouth, his hands framing Qui-gon’s face was so powerful that Qui-Gon was afraid that this new desire radiating from inside him would be painfully transparent to any Jedi that he encountered.

He had kept the Force in tight control once he had returned to the Temple and did not mention his hallucinations of Obi-Wan in his report to the Council. It was incredibly difficult to talk to Obi-Wan about it now. He was not ready to discuss that he desired Obi-Wan, that he loved him in a way completely unbecoming of a Jedi. Instead he searched for calm but some part of him held back, afraid to give up complete control to the Force even with Obi-Wan there to guide him, _especially_ with Obi-Wan there…

“You are troubled,” Obi-Wan murmured, his low voice bringing warmth into the sparsely furnished room, “we will make another attempt tomorrow.”

“There is no try.” Qui-Gon reminded him tiredly and Obi-Wan looked at him, his expression serious.

“Sometimes all we do is try.” He said quietly but did not elaborate when Qui-Gon looked at him with confusion.

They stood, exiting the main area of the room, Obi-Wan slipping into the small kitchen of Qui-Gon’s quarters and beginning to make tea. Qui-Gon stood in the rounded archway of the kitchen. The nervous hum of energy pushing though his veins was exhausting, an addiction he wished he could quit but couldn’t quite let go of. If he released his control on the Force would Obi-Wan see his hallucinations? Would he lose the memory of what it had felt like to kiss the other man? Obi-Wan paused in making the tea and Qui-Gon gave him a small smile, aware of the man studying him with a concerned sort of focus.

“I find it difficult to accept being a padawan when it comes to meditation.” He said mildly and Obi-Wan gave a small smile in return, reaching up automatically to the cupboard that Qui-Gon kept tea in.

“Consider it good for my self-esteem.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly and Qui-Gon laughed at the rare show of humor from his apprentice.

The sound of his laughter startled them both, reminding Qui-Gon once again how long it had been since he had felt like himself. He looked down, suddenly shy at the way Obi-Wan’s gaze had softened, the smaller man’s eyes alight with tenderness. This felt right, the way Obi-Wan looked at him, the quiet domesticity of them sharing quarters, something they had never done at the Temple before. Qui-Gon took the tea Obi-Wan offered him and tried not to shiver as their fingers touched.

* * *

It was night, Qui-Gon waking suddenly, his mind reeling with jumbled images of Obi-Wan being trapped on Terrsid III while Qui-Gon was let free, ruined by the distortion of what reality even was. He lie still, trying to regulate his breathing, reminding himself he was in his own quarters, he would not have to return to Terrsid III again. He stared up at the ceiling, his body trembling from the disturbing intensity of the dream.

The dark stillness of the room was fractured by his door sliding open slightly, Obi-Wan slipping in. Qui-Gon turned on his side to face the man, willing his muscles to relax, his mind to pull away from the panic that the nightmare had caused. He felt he should speak, dismiss the dream as nothing. He was a Jedi master, he should not be upset so easily but Obi-Wan’s worried expression stilled any of Qui-Gon’s excuses. His former padawan had slept in the other room but must have sensed Qui-Gon’s distress through their bond. Now Obi-Wan approached the bed, his form only a shape in the darkness.

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan slid beneath the covers, his slender build facing Qui-Gon under the blankets, one hand reaching out to rest on the taller man’s broad chest. Qui-Gon’s breath caught at Obi-Wan’s forwardness, the man’s palm warm as it pressed against the thin undershirt Qui-Gon wore, fingers splayed over Qui-Gon’s racing heart. The unfamiliarity of Obi-Wan’s behavior made Qui-Gon wonder if he was still dreaming or if he was still on Terrsid III for Obi-Wan was normally very reserved when it came to any sort of physical contact.

“You are still troubled,” Obi-Wan said quietly and the sound of his soft rich voice so near in the dark sent a bolt of warmth through Qui-Gon’s limbs.

“It is difficult to sleep.” Qui-Gon responded, keeping his voice level but knowing the fast beat of his heart betrayed him.

Obi-Wan shifted, his bare feet brushed briefly against Qui-Gon’s leg as he resettled before he spoke again.

“I don’t think traditional meditation suits you,” his thumb stroked over Qui-Gon’s sternum absently, “here,”

He reached out in the dark, their hands meeting before he led one of Qui-Gon’s large hands to his own chest, resting the hand over the light tunic layer he wore. Qui-Gon inhaled but remained still, searching Obi-Wan’s face in the dark, confusion and something very close to need winding into the rapid energy surging through him.

“Close your eyes and breathe deeply, feel my heartbeat,” Obi-Wan instructed him.

Qui-Gon did, aware of Obi-Wan’s pulse as a steady rhythm beneath his fingertips. His own heartbeat began to slow as Obi-Wan’s unhurried breathing and calm heartbeat became a sort of mantra to him.

 _Let go of your control,_ Obi-Wan whispered through their bond.

Qui-Gon hesitated, knowing he was so close to peace but that restoring things to what they were before meant allowing the Force to dictate him, allowing the hallucinations to possibly be seen.

“Let go.” Obi-Wan murmured out loud and Qui-Gon lowered his head, resting it against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, no longer caring anymore what the man would think of him.

He released control in increments at first, seeing glimpses of his time on Terrsid III drift into the bond and then all of a sudden it could no longer be held back and the memories flooded over both of them, he alone, but not alone, in that cell. Seeing Obi-Wan as an older man, speaking with the man, their eyes meeting, their hands touching. Kissing Obi-Wan and thinking _yes, this, this is everything_. The flood of information continued, Obi-Wan’s mind automatically cataloguing, organizing what Qui-Gon gave him, putting the older man back together so that when it stopped Qui-Gon was trembling, their heartbeats quick beneath each other’s hands. Qui-Gon lifted his head, grateful that he could not see the pity or distaste that the younger man must have toward him now.

“It was only at Terrsid III, when I first thought…never before…” he tried to explain, awkward and aware that however uncomfortable this was for him it must be worse for Obi-Wan; Jedi were not supposed to feel this way about one another.

Qui-Gon forced himself to continue speaking, needing to be honest,

“I still feel the same…even it was all just a dream. I – I love you.”

Reluctantly, he went to move his hand away from Obi-Wan’s chest but the man clasped it close instead.

“It wasn’t just a dream, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan murmured, the soft tone of his voice gentle as if afraid he would startle Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon swallowed, unsure of how to explain how difficult it was to know that the Obi-Wan he had seen on Terrsid III was not real.

“You weren’t there.” he whispered and heard more than saw Obi-Wan turn his head toward him in the dark.

“I am now,” Obi-Wan replied with quiet firmness, “I always will be.”

“Obi-Wan –“ Qui-Gon began but the hand resting on his chest moved up, touching Qui-Gon’s face.

“I’ve loved you since I was nineteen,” Obi-Wan confessed, his voice conveying both determination and shyness, “I never imagined you would feel the same.”

Shock filled Qui-Gon. The questions he had were held back as he felt Obi-Wan lean up toward him, their mouths met, hesitantly at first before hands were grasping one another’s shirts, pulling close. He delved into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s mouth, kissing him deeply, their tongues meeting, bodies pressing close as Obi-Wan wrapped a arm around Qui-Gon’s ribcage, holding him. They broke away panting, the shock fading slightly so that warmth sprawled lazily through Qui-Gon, the nervous energy from before dissipating into contentment and desire. There were numerous things to discuss but Qui-Gon found he didn’t care, he tilted Obi-Wan’s jaw, kissing the man again, Obi-Wan making a soft sound that reverberated through Qui-Gon, the kiss infinitely more perfect than what he had known on Terrsid III.


End file.
